


Slowly Softly Suffocate, my bittersweet Sin within.

by Delenna (Stormslostradiant)



Series: Aged Rainbows Taste like Old Wines Do [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Introspection, Post Future-Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormslostradiant/pseuds/Delenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mukuro had always hated the mafia.</p><p>Post Future Arc look at their relationship and the implications.</p><p>Original Title: Tsuna's Mist</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slowly Softly Suffocate, my bittersweet Sin within.

It took ten years of time travel, Mukuro thought, for him to see.

The road was empty in the dark, and the few patrollers did not see past his illusions. He’d lost so much in those ten years, through hate and fate and fortune. He’d lost so much already, taken away from him by the Mafia.

The road lamps flicker at a thought, and Mukuro exhales as the last patrollee rounds the corner.

He gained something now, memories, and perspective. Perhaps that was why he was here now.

The house before him was uncharacteristically quiet, no bombs or gunshots or explosives. Mukuro eased the door open, dripping indigo, and snuck into the home of the Vongola Decimo.

What had he been thinking when he accepted the position of Mist Guardian?

The stairs stayed quiet as Mukuro stepped up to the second floor, and stopped behind a door. There was a fish on it.

He hated the Vongola. He hated the Mafia. He hated all those implicit in the crimes enacted on him and his. He had no need for family, not when he had his own. He especially had no need for Famiglia.

The door slid open noiselessly as the rest of the night, Mukuro’s steps like in a silent film.

He knew why he joined, a short dream of power, of extra chances later. He didn’t understand why he stayed, and never took the chance even when he could.

Indigo Mist wafted into the room through the door, curling around table and wardrobe and bed, carefully flowing past Reborn. Tsuna lay curled up on his bed, so small for a man with so much power. So much destructive capability. So innocent.

Mukuro raised a hand, mist curling into the familiar shape of a trident.

So easy a target.

 

Why did he don a Hell Ring for this child? Why would he sell his soul again? Why why _**why** _ did he remain in the organization he wanted to destroy so much. Was it debt? For freeing him?

Mukuro smiled. No. It would be a poetic double cross to possess such a foolish person. Was it curiosity? A wish to see the man that burned another alive again?

Mukuro leant forward, Mist rising to obscure everything not close to his face. No, he would not hesitate to possess that man.

What stayed his hand?

Tsuna sniffled in his sleep, pulling the blankets tighter to his face.

 

Mukuro lowered his hand again, and knelt by the boy’s bedside. A soft, sad smile graced his lips and he sighed inaudibly.

No, he knew why he stayed. The Mafia created victims, and that was all his family was. A victim of someone elses greed. Tsuna was no different. He let his thin fingers run through Tsuna’s hair once, and then stood up.

The window was swiftly pulled open and Mukuro fluidly bounded through and onto the grass below. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but think, he was never a Vongola Guardian, and Tsuna was never his Sky. But Tsuna was family, and games or no, his family was not something he ever let go.

He was Tsuna’s, and that made all the difference.

_Mukuro sashayed slowly down the street, visible, until swallowed by the rising purple mist. Reborn stayed asleep as sound returned, and the sun began to shine. The only hint at Mukuro’s presence was the unnatural chill that clung heavily to everything not Tsuna._

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Because Mukuro beat Mammon while possessing someone else’s body and that has to mean something. So my Mukuro is kinda terrifyingly scary. 
> 
> (If one sells one’s soul with a Hell Ring, why did Mukuro wear two if he knew exactly what he was getting into? The other Mists sort of make sense: loyality and all that blah. Flan just doesn’t care. But Mukuro?)
> 
> Ps: excuse the spelling. Double checked this late at night, so it's very likely that I missed something.


End file.
